#MayPac: The Impossible Waltz

Published

8 years ago

April 27, 2015

“I wanted to give the fans what they wanted to see – they wanted to see a toe-to-toe battle. Fans don’t want to see me moving. They want to see me coming forward, so that’s what we did tonight.”

This is Floyd Mayweather talking to Larry Merchant after his 2010 mismatch with Shane Mosley. Merchant had made his first question about the perceived abandonment by Mayweather of his “defensive genius.”

In truth, Mayweather had done no such thing, but he had changed as a fighter and this was the night upon which it became apparent. Mayweather “retired” in 2007 after two glorious moving performances against Oscar De La Hoya and Ricky Hatton, and upon his comeback had matched Juan Manuel Marquez, who he dwarfed. Mayweather spent much of that fight inching forwards or holding ground but he was both the bigger man and the puncher in that fight so his apparently aggressive approach looked natural. But against Mosley he was expected to move.

Everything you might have said about him had he done so could still be said – he was too fast, too quick and too clever for a stumbling Shane Mosley, past-prime but coming off a very impressive win over Antonio Margarito. But he did not move, or to be more precise, he did not fight a moving fight. Even the fighter’s own claim that he “boxed the first couple of rounds” must be called into question as Mayweather and Mosley repeatedly bumped up on the inside, Mayweather even contesting some of the clinches and to the surprise of many his newfound post-retirement size and strength made him far from the victim Mosley’s ruggedness was expected to make of him there. A new reality unfolded: even while he eschewed in disdain Mosley’s body as a target, Mayweather himself had become more available for the jab to the body than at any other time in his career. The payoff was a direct route to Mosley’s head and jaw, which Mayweather filled with punches throughout.

In round two, Shane Mosley hit Mayweather with a right-hand which remains the hardest punch Floyd has ever taken in his ring career. Mayweather was rattled but did not budge; he remained in range, he invited Mosley to the pocket, and allowed his opponent to tag him with another right hand before the round was out. The best mover of his generation had been hit with the hardest punch of his career and left his bike parked at ringside. Mayweather Mark II was born in that moment.

I was sad about this at first. The world is full of fighters who stand their ground and fight but boxers like the one that destroyed Diego Corrales way back in 2001 are incredibly rare. Mayweather was electric, eclectic, using every inch of canvas until Corrales was in control of exactly none of it, giving up square feet and then inches in a gradual easement that was almost otherworldly; that placed him, it seems to me now, nearer the tower inhabited by the likes of Roy Jones and Ray Robinson than the streets where earthbound pugilists swarm.

That argument is for another day though. What interests us now, in the light of the thunderclouds gathering on Mayweather’s horizon in the shape of a perpetually aggressive southpaw, is the recent history of the man they call Money. In shorthand, after Mosley, Mayweather made the most lavish living in all of sports doing what people liked to say he couldn’t do in 2003, namely beat a series of welterweight and light-middleweight pressure fighters in the pocket. Of course he still moved, but his movement was typified now by economy; against Robert Guerrero especially he maintained an exquisitely tight circle, turning his opponent often, inviting him to punch, countering him but just as often throwing out leads in short squabbles over territory that inevitably ended in Mayweather’s favour. Mayweather has written an old tune with his commitment to arbitrary rather than patterned head and upper-body movement but he has taken the song and made it his own. Certainly it wasn’t the steady ground that he gave that baffled Canelo Alvarez in 2013, a shrewd flooding of the space behind him which worked well in bringing the numbed Alvarez steadily forwards, but rather the sudden egress when he allowed Alvarez to catch him that was the difference in that fight. In the sixth he suddenly filled the space he was narrowly vacating with every variety of right hand that can be named, and the fight as a contest was over.

His fight with Cotto, and the first with Marcos Maidana were a little more troubling. In both of these contests Mayweather was, for the first time since the adoption of his new style, pressed. This was not the same as his being buzzed by that chopping Mosley right, this was consistent and direct pressure brought by opponents who believed in their style and their chances, Cotto because of his size and strength, Maidana because of unfettered surety in his own aggression. It would be a gross exaggeration to say that either man came close to beating him, but Mayweather looked uncomfortable.

Against Maidana, especially, Floyd was handled for spells. The Argentine came for him two handed with his head up the middle, which is not to imply that Maidana was butting Mayweather but rather to say that he was brave enough to place his head in a position that made it likely that he would be hit but that eliminated one plane of movement for a Mayweather escape – keep in mind now that I am speaking not of his employing his legs, but rather head and upper body movement. Mayweather couldn’t dip because he would have been driving his face into Maidana’s skull. If he went straight back into the ropes, Maidana would naturally gain space into which he was leaning, again, dangerous, but the brave and the correct decision.

Mayweather elected to hold his ground once more. This was the fight that really called out for a moving strategy; it would have rendered what ended up being a close decision win for Mayweather a rout. Maidana did not have the science or the physical abilities necessary to keep up with the Floyd Mayweather that destroyed Corrales, or even the one that narrowly out-pointed De La Hoya. But still he did not move, still he stayed in the pocket, weaving, tilting, perhaps barely outlanding a fighter that threw around twice as many punches as him and roughed him up in the process. If we could believe Mayweather Senior when he claimed that fighting rather than boxing had been the plan against Mosley, we could not believe that here. Mayweather neglected to move against Maidana not because he wouldn’t but because he couldn’t.

Mayweather’s legs have gone.

When I say “gone”, I don’t, of course, mean “gone”. George Foreman had “no legs” when he won the world’s heavyweight title. A fighter without legs isn’t incapable of movement but rather is incapable of controlling the tempo of the fight with movement.

For a fighter like Foreman Mark II, this is no disaster. He can maintain pressure by shuffling forwards and eating punches, hoping for the chance to land that dream shot. But for a fighter like Mayweather it should have been a total disaster. History tells us that a fighter losing his legs is inevitable and that, in the case of the mobile defensive genius, it signals the end of his career. Ivan Calderon is the best example in recent history. Belatedly admitted to the various pound-for-pound lists published on the internet and elsewhere, he was already past-prime when he became well known to boxing fans. Although he sported quick pistols and fluidity in pulling the trigger, it was footwork that set Calderon apart for the five years he boxed as the best little-man on the planet. When his legs betrayed him he was finished and even against a fighter as limited as Moises Fuentes, who battered him into submission in his very last fight, he was chanceless, sinking sadly to his haunches and accepting the count.

Time moves fast for a fighter who trades on speed of movement and it catches up to every boxer of this style. Even the great Willie Pep was forced to take a knee when his feet couldn’t keep him ahead of the merciless Sandy Saddler. Roy Jones, in turn, was tracked down and destroyed by Glen Johnson, a wolf he would have slaughtered in a previous life but one he could not keep from the door once his legs had betrayed him.

Cast your mind back to the opening paragraph of this article for a moment if you will. Larry Merchant asked Mayweather:

“Floyd…why did you turn yourself from – a defensive wizard into an offensive force?”

And Mayweather replied:

A more honest answer would have been, “I’ve got to give the fans what they want to see. The fans won’t see me moving again for twelve rounds because I can’t do it. Sometimes, I’m going to have to come forwards. That’s what we did tonight.”

What Mayweather, like Muhammad Ali before him, has recognised, is that there is another way. Ali knew years before he employed the rope-a-dope against George Foreman that he would have to look for another solution to the fifteen round championship distance, that he couldn’t, even in his prime, dance a 215lb machine around the ring for fifteen rounds. His solution was the ropes, a lot of absorption, an uncanny ability to read punches and a fabulous ability to pick and land counterpunches.

Floyd, like Ali, has endured a period of inactivity prior to which he was the best mover of his generation, and like Ali he has returned to the ring without that mobility. What Ali and Mayweather have both recognised is that control is everything; and if you can’t control the ring with your legs control it some other way. Against Foreman, Ali gave his opponent everything he wanted. Big George came to that ring to walk Ali down and force his (by the standards of the day) old legs into surrender. So Ali gave him exactly what he wanted from the second round and took advantage of the over-exuberance in the “destroy” portion of the “seek and destroy” equation that Foreman personified. Mayweather has done the same thing. He has chosen pressure fighters because he knows he can control them; because he knows at any given moment where they will be and that is front and centre, missing him, and getting hit with counterpunches.

But his legs have still gone. If he could adopt a moving strategy, we would have seen it by now. The maximum he can offer was on display in Mayweather’s last fight, the rematch with Maidana, won by Floyd at a canter as he took measures to ensure he would only intermittently have to fight off the ropes: narrow relaxed steps and a fast clinch when his back touched the top strand. Even this modest commitment to mobility seemed to have a price as Mayweather threw a measly 326 punches according to Compubox (netting him just under 100k a punch), far and away his lowest total ever recorded over twelve rounds. Any physical activity is a balancing act. Running is a balancing act between the legs and the lungs; boxing is a balancing act between movement and fighting, acted upon externally by the opponent. In fights where he punches instead of moves, Mayweather can still toss out over 600 punches as he did against Miguel Cotto. In selecting recommitment to movement to some small degree against Maidana he limited his output severely. Nor is it a matter of contact, a matter of movement keeping him away from the combat zone. Against De La Hoya, Mayweather spent the whole fight moving and threw almost five-hundred punches. This is an exquisite rendering of a fighter past his prime, perched perfectly on the cliff edge it is his destiny to fall from should he go on too long.

Now, finally, enter Manny Pacquiao stage left. Pacquiao himself is many years removed from the 1,000 punches he threw against Joshua Clottey but he is still a destroyer. He is still, on paper, the exact type that would be expected to slaughter a defensive genius forced to adapt to new realities. A hard puncher with an awkward style, he looks every inch Sandy Saddler to Mayweather’s Willie Pep. And yet Mayweather is an overwhelming favourite to win their contest come May 2nd.

Why?

It’s the question that burned for me from almost the moment the fight was made. At first, I was nodding along with those predicting an easy points victory for Mayweather. Sure, why not? He had the clear style advantage all those years ago when the fight was really hot, and although both were past their prime, Manny, still re-gathering himself after a hideous knock out defeat at the hands of Juan Manuel Marquez in 2012, was even more so. But when the fight began to broil under the obsessed eye of the media and I began to check out of the endless coverage I also began to wonder.

Manny wants to forage. He wants to stand just out of range hustling, feinting, dipping, and then bursting forwards into the pocket, firing. In 2008, the likely outcome would have been a slip, a slide, a counter, then a shuck or a step with a right-hand lead to kiss Pacquiao goodbye before sliding back out into some other quarter of the ring. The style advantage then belonged to Mayweather.

Now when Manny forages the likely outcome will be a slip, a counter but then a bump or a clinch or a shoulder-role and a possible exchange. That, to me, sounds like the style advantage now belongs to Pacquiao.

There has been some questions as to who the puncher will be in this fight. Pacquiao has not stopped an opponent since Miguel Cotto in 2009 and Mayweather’s new found strength at 147lbs has impressed many, not least of all me. But this question is neither here nor there in trying to unpick their respective strategies. The question that matters is who wants to initiate the exchanges? To whose advantage are exchanges in this fight? Because it is impossible for Manny to win if output is low, the answer is clearly “Pacquiao”. If, in fact, Mayweather can outpunch him he will still lose, but because there is no opportunity here for him to outbox Mayweather, that unpleasant fact (should it be one) will not affect either man’s strategy.

To sum up in a line: there will be more exchanges in this fight than there would have been in 2008. On paper that narrows the odds in Pacquiao’s favourite.

The stunning knockout of Pacquiao by Marquez and the inevitable diminishing of his punch output has turned the wheel of public perception too far in Mayweather’s direction in my opinion. If Mayweather moves more than he wants to, his engine will suffer and his output will likely drop to somewhere around 400 punches. I don’t think this is necessarily enough to get him over the line. On the other hand, if he elects to stand his ground as his Mark II stylistics have called upon him to do, I would expect him to throw more than five-hundred punches at Pacquiao – which is enough to get the job done but forces him into exchanges with the remnants of the best offence of this generation. Both options contain risks; both options allow Mayweather to exert control over the action – but I believe the first option probably carries the greatest risk of defeat, and that Mayweather who has become, against all the odds, one of the great ring pragmatists, will favour the second option. I expect Mayweather to fight Pacquiao almost exclusively in the pocket in the second two thirds of the fight. He’ll redress the situation with movement on occasion when he starts to feel uncomfortable as he did against Miguel Cotto; we are not going to see Pacquiao machine-gun Mayweather with punches at his age, meaning a Maidana style mauling is off the cards – unless Freddie Roach and Manny Pacquiao believe a decision to be an impossibility and decide to go for the early stoppage – but for the most part these two are going to spend a great deal of this fight on the edge of exchanges.

My guess is those exchanges will still favour Mayweather. Everyone has been hitting Pacquiao with right hands in recent years, up to and including Chris Algieri, who repeatedly landed a scuffing version of the punch on Manny as he swooped in. Although Algieri had to go to the body to land many of his meaningful rights, Mayweather has perhaps the best right-hand in the business. He will land it often and flush. On the other hand I expect Mayweather to be able to ride, deflect, crowd and step out on most of Pacquiao’s best work. Who, when really thinking about it however, can deny that Pacquiao will, like the past-prime Mosley, have his past-prime moment? In days of Mayweather past the vanishing act in the following round would have been complete, but if Pacquiao hurts Mayweather – when Pacquiao hurts Mayweather – the next three-hundred seconds of combat will be waged in the pocket, the best infighting offence of this generation let loose upon the best defensive infighter of this generation.

That is what is happening May 2nd and I hope it is not just Pacquiao who can gather to himself the praise deserved should he find a route to victory. Mayweather too must be credited, as one of the few defensive geniuses to have relied primarily upon mobility to cement his greatness but survive the departure of that mobility against one of the genuine destroyers of his era, for all that the destroyer was once upon a time a better fighter.

And a final thought – for all that this match might have been fought on a higher plane in 2008 I suspect it would also have been less entertaining.

I would stop short of predicting war, but a taught and hurtful battle is in the offing, I think.

The winner will join Roy Jones and Pernell Whitaker among the pantheon of true modern greats.

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Matt McGrain

U.K. Boxing Montage: Conlan KOed; Wood Regains Title; Billam-Smith Upsets Okolie

Published

2 days ago

May 28, 2023

Arne K. Lang

UK-Boxing-Montage-Conlan-KOed-Wood-Regains-Title-Billam-Smith-Upsets-Okolie

British fight fabs had plenty of options last night. Important events were staged in Manchester, in Bournemouth, and in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The locals were delighted in Manchester and Bournemouth, but fans in Belfast were left crestfallen when their hometown hero Michael Conlan, the former two-time Olympian, was on the wrong end of a vicious KO.

Conlan, who was 18-1 heading in, had a four-inch height advantage and three-inch reach advantage over Mexican spoiler Luis Alberto Lopez. The Irishman attracted late money and went to post a small favorite. But Lopez (28-2, 16 KOs) emerged victorious, successfully defending his IBF world featherweight title which he won in British soil over Josh Warrington.

Although Conlan had a rough patch in the second round, he was seemingly in a good position heading into round five when the Mexican invader brought a swift conclusion to the contest, discombobulating Conlan (pictured) with a right uppercut that prompted his trainer Adam Booth to throw in the towel. It was the second time that Conlan came up short in a bid for a world title. He challenged for the WBA version of this belt in March of last year, losing on a spectacular last round knockout to Leigh Wood in a fight that he was winning until the final 90 seconds.

Also…

In a scheduled 12-rounder for a WBC featherweight trinket, five-foot-three Liverpool buzzsaw Nick “Wrecking” Ball advanced to 18-0, (11 KOs) with a 12^th-round stoppage of South Africa’s previously undefeated Ludumo Lamati (21-1-1, 11 KOs). Lamati’s corner tossed in the towel after Ball landed a series of hard punches in the final frame.

Lamati was on his feet when the bout was stopped but was in dire straits and was removed from the ring on a stretcher. There was no update on his condition as this story was going to press.

In a companion 12-rounder, Belfast’s Anthony “Apache” Cacace (21-1, 7 KOs) successfully defended his fringe 130-pound title with a wide decision over Damian Wrzesinski (26-3-2). The judges had 118-111, 117-111, and 116-112.

Wrzesinski, a 38-year-old Pole, fought with a brace on his right knee. This was the first fight for “Apache” in his hometown in eight years. The win may have set him up for a match with Welshman Joe Cordina, the IBF junior lightweight title-holder, or Shavkat Rakhimov who lost a close decision to Cordina in a bruising tiff last month.

Manchester

Mauricio Lara didn’t bring his “A” game to England. That became apparent at the weigh-in when he failed to make weight, losing his WBA world featherweight title on the scales. By rule, only Leigh Wood could win it or it would become vacant.

This was a rematch. Fourteen weeks ago, Lara went into Wood’s backyard in Nottingham and stopped him in the seventh round. Lara was behind on the cards when he felled Wood with a crunching left hook. Wood beat the count but his trainer Ben Davison tossed in the towel which struck many, especially Wood, as premature as less than 10 seconds remained in the round.

In a previous trip to England, Lara had broken hearts in Leeds, stopping native son Josh Warrington. The Mexican invader, younger than Leigh Wood by 10 years, was expected to win again, but Wood, 34, simply out-worked him. He knocked Lara down in the second round with an uppercut and methodically kept him at bay, winning by scores of 116-111 and 118-109 twice.

Co-Feature

In his first appearance since his controversial defeat to Josh Taylor in Glasgow in February of last year, Jack Catterall improved to 27-1 (15) with a wide decision over Irish-Australian southpaw Darragh Foley (22-5-1).

The Sportsman called the Catterall-Taylor fight, a split decision win for Taylor, the most controversial fight in British boxing history and Catterall became a more sympathetic figure when Taylor, after several postponements, reneged on his promise to give Catterall a rematch, opting instead for a date with Teofimo Lopez.

Although Foley was in action 10 weeks ago, scoring his signature win with a third-round stoppage of favored Robbie Davies Jr., and Catterall was making his first start in 15 months, this was a one-sided fray in Catterall’s favor. He had Foley on the canvas twice en route to winning by scores of 99-88, 98-89, and 97-90.

Eddie Hearn has expressed an interest in matching Catterall with Regis Prograis assuming that Prograis gets past Arnold Barboza on June 17.

Also

England’s Terri Harper (14-1-1), who jumped up three weight classes last year, successfully defended her WBA 154-pound diadem with a unanimous but unimpressive 10-round decision over perennial title challenger Ivana Habazin. The judges had it 98-92 and 99-93 twice.

Harper was slated to fight former pound-for-pound queen Cecilia Braekhus last Saturday in the co-feature to Taylor vs. Cameron in Dublin, but hat match fell out when Braekhus came down with a bad cold following the weight-in.

Harper is seeking a unification fight with countrywoman Natasha Jonas. Habazin, a 33-year-old Croat, fell to 21-5.

Bournemouth

In his fourth defense of his WBO world cruiserweight title, previously undefeated Lawrence Okolie was soundly defeated by former sparring partner Chris Billam.-Smith The match was contested in Billam-Smith’s hometown before a raucous crowd at sold-out Vitality Stadium.

A 3/1 underdog, Billam-Smith, who was 17-1 heading in, proved clearly superior He knocked Okolie down in the fourth round and again in rounds 10 and 11 en route to winning by scores of 116-107, 115-108, and 112-112.

About that curious 112-112 card. It was turned in by U.S. judge Benjamin Rodriguez who had been working the Illinois-Wisconsin circuit. On social media, his tally is being called the worst scorecard of all time.

Did Billam-Smith’s fans leave happy? The correspondent for British Boxing News called the event “a night of breathtaking boxing action that will never be forgotten.”

The six-foot-five Okolie may have made his last start as a cruiserweight. He aspires to fight Oleksandr Usyk.

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The Sweet Science Rankings: Week of May 22nd, 2023

Published

3 days ago

May 27, 2023

Matt McGrain

The-Sweet-Science-Rankings-Junto-Nakatani

The Sweet Science Rankings: Week of May 22nd, 2023

Hiroto Kyoguchi departs 108lbs for 112lbs so there’s a reorganisation at the bottom of the 108lbs division. Fellow Japanese Junto Nakatani’s breathtaking destruction of Andrew Maloney sees him rise to #6 at 115lbs with Maloney dropping to #10; Kosei Tanaki who was also out at the weekend climbs to #9. Raymond Muratalla is the last mover this week, eliminating Jamaine Ortiz and debuting at #9 at 135lbs. There are no further changes at lightweight where Lomachenko maintains his ranking at #3.

*Please note that when the fighter’s name appears with an asterisk it represents a movement in ranking from the previous week.

Pound-for-Pound

01 – Naoya Inoue

02 – Oleksandr Usyk

03 – Juan Francisco Estrada

04 – Dmitry Bivol

05 – Terence Crawford

06 – Errol Spence Jnr.

07 – Tyson Fury

08 – Saul Alvarez

09 – Artur Beterbiev

10 – Shakur Stevenson

105lbs

1 Knockout CP Freshmart (Thailand)

2 Petchmanee CP Freshmart (Thailand)

3 Melvin Jerusalem (Philippines)

4 Ginjiro Shigeoka (Japan)

5 Wanheng Menayothin (Thailand)

6 Daniel Valladares (Mexico)

7 Yudai Shigeoka (Japan)

8 Oscar Collazo (USA)

9 Masataka Taniguchi (Japan)

10 Rene Mark Cuarto (Philippines)

108lbs

1 Kenshiro Teraji (Japan)

2 Jonathan Gonzalez (Puerto Rico)

3 Masamichi Yabuki (Japan)

4 Hekkie Budler (South Africa)

5 Sivenathi Nontshinga (South Africa)

6 Elwin Soto (Mexico)

7 Daniel Matellon (Cuba)

8 Reggie Suganob (Philippines)

9 Shokichi Iwata (Japan)*

10 Esteban Bermudez (Mexico)*

112lbs

1 Sunny Edwards (England)

2 Artem Dalakian (Ukraine)

3 Julio Cesar Martinez (Mexico)

4 Angel Ayala Lardizabal (Mexico)

5 David Jimenez (Costa Rica)

6 Jesse Rodriguez (USA)

7 Ricardo Sandoval (USA)

8 Felix Alvarado (Nicaragua)

9 Seigo Yuri Akui (Japan)

10 Cristofer Rosales (Nicaragua)

115lbs

1 Juan Francisco Estrada (Mexico)

2 Roman Gonzalez (Nicaragua)

3 Jesse Rodriguez (USA)

4 Kazuto Ioka (Japan)

5 Joshua Franco (USA)

6 Junto Nakatani (Japan)*

7 Fernando Martinez (Argentina)

8 Srisaket Sor Rungvisai (Thailand)

9 Kosei Tanaka (Japan)*

10 Andrew Moloney (Australia)

118lbs

1 Emmanuel Rodriguez (Puerto Rico)

2 Jason Moloney (Australia)

3 Nonito Donaire (Philippines)

4 Vincent Astrolabio (Philippines)

5 Gary Antonio Russell (USA)

6 Takuma Inoue (Japan)

7 Alexandro Santiago (Mexico)

8 Ryosuke Nishida (Japan)

9 Keita Kurihara (Japan)

10 Paul Butler (England)

122lbs

1 Stephen Fulton (USA)

2 Marlo Tapales (Philippines)

3 Luis Nery (Mexico)

4 Murodjon Akhmadaliev (Uzbekistan)

5 Ra’eese Aleem (USA)

6 Azat Hovhannisyan (Armenia)

7 Kevin Gonzalez (Mexico)

8 Takuma Inoue (Japan)

9 John Riel Casimero (Philippines)

10 Fillipus Nghitumbwa (Namibia)

126lbs

1 Mauricio Lara (Mexico)

2 Brandon Figueroa (USA)

3 Rey Vargas (Mexico)

4 Luis Alberto Lopez (Mexico)

5 Mark Magsayo (Philippines)

6 Leigh Wood (England)

7 Josh Warrington (England)

8 Robeisy Ramirez (Cuba)

9 Reiya Abe (Japan)

10 Otabek Kholmatov (Uzbekistan)

130lbs

1 Joe Cordina (Wales)

2 Oscar Valdez (Mexico)

3 Hector Garcia (Dominican Republic)

4 O’Shaquie Foster (USA)

5 Shavkatdzhon Rakhimov (Tajikistan)

6 Roger Gutierrez (Venezuela)

7 Lamont Roach (USA)

8 Eduardo Ramirez (Mexico)

9 Kenichi Ogawa (Japan)

10 Robson Conceicao (Brazil)

135lbs

1 Devin Haney (USA)

2 Gervonta Davis (USA)

3 Vasily Lomachenko (Ukraine)

4 Isaac Cruz (Mexico)

5 William Zepeda Segura (Mexico)

6 Frank Martin (USA)

7 George Kambosos Jnr (Australia)

8 Shakur Stevenson (USA)

9 Raymond Muratalla (USA)*

10 Keyshawn Davis (USA)

140lbs

1 Josh Taylor (Scotland)

2 Regis Prograis (USA)

3 Jose Ramirez (USA)

4 Jose Zepeda (USA)

5 Jack Catterall (England)

6 Subriel Matias (Puerto Rico)

7 Arnold Barboza Jr. (USA)

8 Gary Antuanne Russell (USA)

9 Zhankosh Turarov (Kazakhstan)

10 Shohjahon Ergashev (Uzbekistan)

147lbs

1 Errol Spence (USA)

2 Terence Crawford (USA)

3 Yordenis Ugas (Cuba)

4 Vergil Ortiz Jr. (USA)

5 Jaron Ennis (USA)

6 Eimantas Stanionis (Lithuania)

7 David Avanesyan (Russia)

8 Cody Crowley (Canada)

9 Roiman Villa (Columbia)

10 Alexis Rocha (USA)

154lbs

1 Jermell Charlo (USA)

2 Tim Tszyu (Australia)

3 Brian Castano (Argentina)

4 Brian Mendoza (USA)

5 Liam Smith (England)

6 Jesus Alejandro Ramos (USA)

7 Sebastian Fundora (USA)

8 Michel Soro (Ivory Coast)

9 Erickson Lubin (USA)

10 Magomed Kurbanov (Russia)

160lbs

1 Gennady Golovkin (Kazakhstan)

2 Jaime Munguia (Mexico)

3 Carlos Adames (Dominican Republic)

4 Janibek Alimkhanuly (Kazakhstan)

5 Liam Smith (England)

6 Erislandy Lara (USA)

7 Sergiy Derevyanchenko (Ukraine)

8 Felix Cash (England)

9 Esquiva Falcao (Brazil)

10 Chris Eubank Jnr. (Poland)

168lbs

1 Canelo Alvarez (Mexico)

2 David Benavidez (USA)

3 Caleb Plant (USA)

4 Christian Mbilli (France)

5 David Morrell (Cuba)

6 John Ryder (England)

7 Pavel Silyagin (Russia)

8 Vladimir Shishkin (Russia)

9 Carlos Gongora (Ecuador)

10 Demetrius Andrade (USA)

175lbs

1 Dmitry Bivol (Russia)

2 Artur Beterbiev (Canada)

3 Joshua Buatsi (England)

4 Callum Smith (England)

5 Joe Smith Jr. (USA)

6 Gilberto Ramirez (Mexico)

7 Anthony Yarde (England)

8 Dan Azeez (England)

9 Craig Richards (England)

10 Michael Eifert (Germany)

200lbs

1 Jai Opetaia (Australia)

2 Mairis Breidis (Latvia)

3 Lawrence Okolie (England)

4 Richard Riakporhe (England)

5 Aleksei Papin (Russia)

6 Badou Jack (Sweden)

7 Chris Billam-Smith (England)

8 Arsen Goulamirian (France)

9 Yuniel Dorticos (Cuba)

10 Mateusz Masternak (Poland)

Unlimited

1 Tyson Fury (England)

2 Oleksandr Usyk (Ukraine)

3 Zhilei Zhang (China)

4 Deontay Wilder (USA)

5 Anthony Joshua (England)

6 Andy Ruiz (USA)

7 Filip Hrgovic (Croatia)

8 Joe Joyce (England)

9 Dillian Whyte (England)

10 Frank Sanchez (Cuba)

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‘How To Box’ by Joe Louis: Part 6 of a 6-Part Series – Putting It All Together

Published

5 days ago

May 25, 2023

Matt McGrain

‘How To Box’ by Joe Louis: Part 6 of a 6-Part Series – Putting It All Together

“You got to be a killer, otherwise I’m getting too old to waste time on you.”—Jack Blackburn

Much has been said concerning the Joe Louis duels with Max Schmeling. It was proof that Louis was vulnerable to right hands. It was proof that Louis wasn’t vulnerable to right hands. It was a victory for America over the Nazis. But Schmeling wasn’t a Nazi. It was boxing’s biggest fight. But it wasn’t about boxing. It was what made Louis a hero. But he was already a hero.

One of Abraham Lincoln’s most successful biographers, Roy Basler, wrote that “to know the truth of history is to realize its ultimate myth and its inevitable ambiguity.” Is there a more telling example of this truth in sports than Louis-Schmeling II? Sometimes the tale can obscure the truth. To put it another way: when was the last time you just wondered at it? Wondered at what Joe Louis did to Max Schmeling on a night when, admittedly, the world was on the brink of war and the African-American was on the road to reclaiming himself from the white power structure in the USA? When was the last time you ignored all those very important things and just marvelled at that fight, the recording of which reporter Henry McLemore called “the most faithful recording ever made of human savagery”?

I’m going to invite you here, please, to wonder at it again.

In one moment.

First, we must take a look at Joe’s best performance.

Buddy Baer

The bigger, less celebrated of the Baer brothers had his own rematch with Joe Louis at the beginning of 1942. The first fight had ended in the controversy of a DQ win for Louis and, as he always did when there was the merest hint of scepticism after a title fight, Joe arranged to meet the Giant Californian once again.

A huge man in any era, Buddy tipped the scales at 250 and scraped the ceiling at a little more than 6’6. As noted by the St.Petersburg Times, “a fellow of Baer’s size in good condition, and equipped with the usual quota of arms, legs and eyes must be conceded a chance in any bout, particularly if he has courage and a punch.”

Buddy had both in abundance, but he was not a natural fighter. “We have the feeling he would rather be out picking violets,” is how the Times chose to illustrate the point. While this is a bit much we all know what he means. Louis, who would famously be fighting for free that night in support of the Navy Relief Fund, was a natural gladiator. Buddy Baer was not.

If Max Schmeling is clearly the tougher of the two opponents and Louis wreaked similar havoc on each of them, what is it that makes this Joe’s greatest performance? Baer’s size? Might it be suggested that herein lies the key to arguing Louis the master of all modern super-heavies as he destroys one in this encounter? It’s a reasonable point, but no, it is not that. It was my own favourite line from How to Box by Joe Louis that brought me to this conclusion.

“There are two basic methods of attack,” the1948 manual tells us, “either by force or by skill. The attack by force is used only by the slugger who depends only upon hitting power. The attack by skill is used by the boxer who relies upon his cleverness in feinting, correct leading, drawing and in-fighting.”

This is a fine division, at once elegant and incomplete, of the boxer’s physical abilities versus his technical ability, his gifts as an athlete as weighed against his skill as a boxer. While Joe’s destruction of Schmeling is his most devastating display, he relies often in that short fight upon his natural gifts, his speed, his power. Joe fights ugly for short, vicious stretches against Baer, too, but not before he has demonstrated for us the height of his art.

Louis and his ghostwriter, Edward J. Mallory, describe the various feints Louis employed in his championship years and most interesting among them is the left jab to the body, the lie, and then the right uppercut to the head, the truth. It is a difficult move from a technical perspective, calling upon the weight to be transferred from the left foot to the right and for the fighter to move from long distance to the inside, downstairs to up, all without getting caught. Louis pulls this move off against a fresh Baer, twenty-five seconds into the fight.

Baer came out aggressively and Louis was momentarily crowded out of the fight, driven and harried back to his own corner first by Baer’s length, then his size. Buddy’s physical advantages overcame Joe’s technical superiority, for just a moment. They circle, and Louis takes a short step back, employing the draw, before throwing a nothing left hook. Louis notices that the challenger’s tactic upon being jabbed are to dip, then make a grab and try to tie the champion up on the inside, allowing him to use his size and weight to bear down on him. A fine plan for a big man, but in fact the fight is now lost.

A few seconds later Louis is shuffling back and away from Baer once more and as Baer moves forwards Louis throws another jab. Again, Baer dips and tries to crowd but Louis has no intention of landing the jab. Instead, he holsters his left, takes a step to the outside with his left foot and even as Baer draws himself into his shell and prepares his grab, Louis uncorks his right uppercut, slipping his weight across his body as a part of the natural movement of the punch, the absolute perfection of this skill. The punch is not a finisher but note Baer’s reaction when Louis jabs at him once more, moments later. Instead of trying to menace the champion with his size or a counter, he backs up directly; shy of the uppercut that the jab disguised last time around. This is the ultimate realisation of the feint—to imbue in the jab, a hammer blow at the best of times the virtual attributes of the uppercut. Baer has now to abandon his pre-fight plan for Joe’s most important punch, that jab.

Skill has determined that his superior size is now worthless.

Paraffin to the wound seconds later as Louis pulls the trick off once more, this time after following through on the jab. A right-handed uppercut to the jaw—the hardest punch to land from a technical perspective—turns the trick again and now Baer is hurt. Louis plants a left hook behind the glove just above the ear and then he is ready to unleash the combinations that made him famous.

People say Joe Louis has slow feet. There is something to this, although hopefully it has been explained in the proper context in Part 1—The Foundation of Skill. Even then, however, we discuss his speed relative to those opponents who run. Well footwork is not merely a byword for a foot race. I defy anyone who takes the time to pay close enough attention to the speed at which Louis adjusts his feet now as Baer retreats across the ring to name him slow.

Out of position for a left hook as Baer is going away slightly outside his right foot, Louis shimmies—there is no other word for it—a quick step forwards, channelling all his power through his left leg and hips. This allows him to land that deadly, rare, straight right and behind it, even though he each time has to shimmy and hop forwards, he lands a left hook and then that rolling right cross. With each punch he is covering ground and with each punch he touches down long enough to get the torque through his hips and crack home hard punches, knockout punches. Perhaps the most startling thing about this sequence is that if you press pause at the moment these blows are landing, they look as though Louis were punching from a stationary position. His balance is perfect, his rushing attack is in no way affecting the value of his punches, yet he takes literally no time to get set. He is a cobra packing a shotgun.

“Use the weight of the body in every punch,” (my italics) advises How to Box and it is a tenet Louis is married to. My expectation upon placing it under the microscope was that I would have to issue a warning similar to the one I described when analysing Joe’s straight right hand—that it bore sweet fruit when it worked but that it was too detail-specific to be really viable in the ring, and that countermeasures must be employed. To my astonishment I found that Louis threw power punches (if not always his jab) in this fashion without compromising his balance on offense. It is my suspicion that this is a unique skillset above 200 lbs. and that you would have to work to find fighters who can fight like this in even the smallest divisions.

Though the fight is only a minute old, referee Frank Fullam takes his first close look at Baer as he wobbles back to Joe’s short rope behind a left-right combination to the jaw and a right to the body that Louis lands after ducking into a clinch as Baer tried to throw his first punches in some seconds. Louis is made to miss in turn as Baer bores him back and away from the ropes, missing first with the right uppercut and then the left hook. These are the most difficult punches to remain composed behind, but Louis does so, remaining in punching position.

Head-to-head in a maul, Louis appears the loser as he slowly gives ground during an exchange of meaningless shots, but a split second later, he has moved out of the maul that Baer remains bowed solemnly into, and Louis begins the assault again. A bobbing top caught in two opposing tides—his, and the punches Joe is driving home—Baer’s size is now nothing less than a handicap in the face of the genius of Joe’s box-punching.

For the first knockdown Louis slips the non-existent jab he expects when he is on his way in, jabs to the stomach and bombs a right cross over his defence. Watch carefully and you will see Baer’s high guard rappelled right and down by the famous Louis follow-through before snapping back into place as Baer collapses in an enormous heap on the canvas, forty-pound weight advantage and all, the first time he has looked big since that first uppercut landed.

It’s hard to admire a man shooting fish in a barrel but take a moment to appreciate the blinds being drawn and the man Leroy Simerly (Herald-Journal) called “strictly a sixteen-inch gunner” in full flow.

Baer was magnanimous in defeat clutching Joe’s head in his oversized paws, almost comically huge next to the man labelled in newspapers the following morning as “the most destructive puncher the fight game has ever seen.”

Baer figured Louis to be champion for some time to come.

“Maybe my next child will be a son and I can raise him up to do the job.”

Three days later, Louis would pass his army physical. He would never reach the heights of the Buddy Baer fight again. It is a frightening thought, but it is possible that boxing never saw the very best of its greatest champion.

Max Schmeling

“Ain’t no sense foolin’ around like I did last time.”

Louis said more than once in the run up to the fight that he would end Max Schmeling in a single round. For the most part this was dismissed as hyperbole by a press which did not break ranks to predict anything earlier than a third-round knockout. Hyperbole was the furthest thing from the minds of Louis and Blackburn, however. This was a plan with its foundation built firmly upon the scientific reasoning that Schmeling had become so famous for.

When Joe Louis attended the welterweight title fight between Henry Armstrong and Barney Ross, it was not as a fan, although he was one, but as a disciple. It is possible that Armstrong was the only man in the history of the fight game capable of teaching Louis about controlled destructive violence in the ring, but the story goes that he did—and that along with handler Eddie Mead, he convinced Louis and Blackburn that a direct, rushing assault was the best strategy.

And the story had more than just a hint of truth to it. First Joe was seen at Henry’s training camp and then Henry was seen at Joe’s. Louis did not speak of it directly, but Blackburn was less equivocal:

“Last time Chappie fought just the way Schmeling wanted him to. This time it’ll be different. Chappie’s going to learn from Armstrong. He’s going to set a fast pace right from the start.”

Max Machon, trainer to Schmeling, did not see the danger, encouraging Louis to do just that:

“He would be as awkward as a school girl on her first pair of ice skates!”

Schmeling, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention or had seen a bluff where there was none:

“I think in the first round we will just feel each other out.”

According to the World Telegram, “Schmeling will make no mistake in strategy. Louis doesn’t know what the word means.” This was the prevailing attitude at the time, but in fact a reversal of this equation was happening right under the noses of the dismissive newspapermen. Even those that sniffed out a possible tactical dimension to the Louis battle plan were disdainful of it. Perhaps they were right, and perhaps Blackburn and Mead were the masterminds behind the directness of the violence about to erupt in Yankee Stadium. But the fact is that Louis had been obsessively watching the first Schmeling fight, originally with a journalist (who could not believe that Blackburn had never shown it to the champion and had in fact discouraged him from seeing it), then with his trainer and finally alone.

Over and over again.

“I know how to fight Max now.”

Louis was to fight Schmeling in the opposite style, as far as How to Box is concerned, to the one he would use to destroy Buddy Baer. There, he fought by skill, here it was to be by force—speed, power.

Louis doesn’t stalk or attempt to draw a lead from Schmeling. At the first bell, he is after him straight away and when Schmeling tries to move, Joe moves with him, still in the small steps and still behind that ramrod jab but with more urgency than is normal. The hard jab and a closet left hook are landed before Max moves out of range, but the leaping left hook he uses to drive Max before him is a new flavor of Louis, especially against an unharmed world-class opponent. Louis had reportedly shadowboxed for forty to fifty minutes before emerging from his dressing room wearing two gowns to keep his body warm. Now he was making both Schmeling and Machon foolish in their pre-fight predictions. Not only was Louis wasting absolutely no time in feeling Schmeling out, but he also bore very little resemblance to a schoolgirl on ice skates. He looked more like coiled galvanized steel brought miraculously and terrifyingly to life.

Referee Arthur Donovan would later claim that this left hook caused Max’s face to swell and changed his pallor to a “faint bluish green.”

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The hook also carried him inside, but rather than moving for space Louis dug his heels in and pushed against Schmeling, denying him room, landing three hard uppercuts, pulling out and then stabbing back in with the one-two. When Schmeling puts his left glove over Joe’s right, cupping his own body protectively with his free arm, Louis reverted to his old habits, making room for himself as he punched, adjusting tactically to Schmeling’s increasingly desperate defensive manoeuvres.

After the German lands his only significant punch of the fight—a right hand as the champion moved away—Louis stalked a rattled Schmeling to the far rope and drew the inevitable pressure lead, before going to work with both hands to the midsection and switching upstairs. When Schmeling tries to hide up close after another one-two, Louis pushes him back and away, giving himself room for his aggressive rushes. Here, then, was the culmination of the tactical switch as he drove Schmeling back with the uppercut then invoked the most famous fistic assault between Dempsey and Tyson, hammering Schmeling back with both fists, the German catapulting away but seemingly caught in the Bomber’s horrifying gravity as he catches the rope for support with his right glove and catapults himself right back into the kill zone. Louis is swarming all over him and Schmeling, now half turned away, is nothing more than a slab of meat and one that the champion goes to work upon in earnest, a butcher wielding two cleavers, finally landing perhaps his most famous punch, a right hand just above the kidney that fractured the transverse process of the third and fourth lumbar vertebrae, tearing the muscles surrounding it in the process. The scream that erupted from Schmeling was “half animal, half human” and according to David Margolick author of Beyond Glory: Max Schmeling and Joe Louis was so bloodcurdling that many patrons on that side of the ring reached for their hats as though compelled to retreat. If it occurred, this was a primal reaction but Louis, for me, was not giving the primal showing of legend.

“He is a jungle man,” wrote journalist Henry McLenmore. “As completely primitive as any savage out to destroy the thing he hates. He fought instinctively and not by any man-made pattern.”

This is not true. Louis had re-armed himself with some new tools for this fight and had shown a strategic surety the German came nowhere near matching—Schmeling was outthought for all that he was also slaughtered. When necessary, Louis switched between pure aggression and his drawing, counterpunching style with seamless ease and although he used his physical rather than his technical brilliance to master Schmeling, I would argue that “the hand of man” is more apparent in this performance than any other one of his fights.

“I thought in my mind, “How’s that Mr. Super-race? I was glad he was hurt,” said Louis in response to questions about his thoughts on the punch that had broken Schmeling’s back. Now he did cut loose, battering Max like he was a heavy bag and indeed from this point on the challenger put up about as much resistance. The final punch, when it came, had the same affect upon Schmeling’s face as a baseball bat would an apple, according to the Herald Tribune. The fight ended in confusion and uproar as first the towel, then Max Machon himself stormed the ring but Schmeling was as knocked out as any fighter had ever been. Louis had wiped the floor with him.

His reward, outside of the $400,000 he had just banked, was to be compared in the next few days in the press to every dangerous animal that walked the earth. Lions, tigers, bears, snakes, hawks and most of all panthers were what the champion was like and the racial climate in which he fought makes us look back and shake our heads at the casual racism. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and John F. Kennedy were all in America’s glittering future. But I do not think it was a matter of race—or not only of race.

It is a fact, however, that some of the pressmen that talked about Louis in these terms were black.

Louis himself, by virtue of his skill in the ring would take a hand in steering his race toward calmer waters.

It’s us.

We all look at Louis and see something primal because there is something primal within all of us. He speaks to it.

And that’s fine. Boxing needs its violence every bit as much as it needs its heroes. If this series of articles was about anything it was about stripping away that projection, that stardust, that lie and looking at the fighter underneath, because that is a beautiful thing that all too often is overlooked. Louis had one of the best jabs, one of the best skillsets, was one of the best counterpunchers, one of the best boxers at any weight, ever—and I hope I have shown that his supposed tactical rigidity and strategic naivety is something we have projected onto this “animal” this “killer” this “bomber,” too, for all that these were not his greatest strengths. He had help and Blackburn was an important part of arguably the greatest story our sport has ever known but as Joe Louis said, “Once that bell rings, you are on your own.

“It’s just you and the other guy.”

And I sure wouldn’t want to be the other guy.

For those of you who have taken the considerable time to read these articles on Joe Louis from the first word to the last—thank you.

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